Gran'papa Owl
by Megii of Mysteri OusStranger
Summary: Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own. Updates Sundays and Thursdays
1. Chapter 1

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _ **Some creative liberty taken with Queenie's name and its origins.**_

 _ **Please be patient; you can expect an explanation in chapter 3.**_

 _There is very, very, VERY little dialogue in this, as it is mostly speculative character building. I would like to get around to fleshing it out properly later on, but only time will tell._

 _The common thread in fanfic seems to be that of Tina and Queenie raising one another as orphans—or near to it—after the death of their parents. However, during the film, we hear about one other relative of theirs: their owl-raising grandfather. I haven't seen him come up in anybody's fics yet, so have some Grandpa Goldstien!_

 _Some period-based sexism (courtesy of Grandpa Goldstien). Mentions of bisexuality. Mentions of demisexuality._

 _I reference Jewish customs and practices in this fic. If I get any of them wrong, please let me know so that I may correct them._

* * *

 _1910_

Old Elijah Ariel Goldstien knows nothing about raising little girls. He knows marginally more about raising boys, but his own son, Fyvel (affectionately known as Filly), grew up being closer to his mother and was born with her gentle nature. Part of Eli regrets not being home enough during Fyvel's childhood, but it is also too late for regrets, because Fyvel is gone, and he must focus on the two children standing on his front porch in Saratoga Springs, New York with only one lonely suitcase between them. The only legacies his son left behind.

Regina is a teary-eyed, sniveling mess. Her sister has made an attempt at brushing the younger girl's hair, but it curls wildly in every direction like an angel's halo, and a soaked handkerchief becomes a home for her endless tears and runny nose. She has her grandmother's mouth and ears, but her mother's flaxen hair, and the sight of her gives Eli a sore pang.

Porpentina is more reserved and Elijah wonders where she gets it, because it doesn't come from Fyvel. Her hair is the perfect opposite of her little sister's in color, but it doesn't lie flat, coiling into loose locks at the ends and is just thick and kinky enough to betray her Jewishness. She stands stiff and straight, her dark eyes glistening and her cheeks splotched with an ugly pink blush that lets him know that she's cried recently, but she doesn't cry openly.

He misses Abigail tremendously.

Eli doesn't know the first thing about little girls, but he thinks he can put together a decent porridge from them all to eat—he has never done it himself, but Abigail made it for them so many times over the years that he imagines he can make it halfway right.

Naturally, it's terrible. Eli hasn't touched a stove in a very long time, but oatmeal seemed disarmingly simple. Porpentina makes a face at the food, but then goes blank and forces it down. Regina takes one bite and cries until the cream goes utterly _blue_ and the oats deflate like an emptied balloon. Porpentina grimaces at it and excuses herself briefly to bring butter and sugar to the table as palatable condiments. Regina's porridge is beyond help, so the older sister shares hers.

Eli's heart aches. How can he provide for these girls if he can't even feed them properly? He hasn't the money for a nanny or housekeeper, not even for a house elf.

"No!" Regina cries suddenly. Porpentina freezes, stares. Regina looks up, her face ruddy like the skin of a peach, and stares her grandfather straight in the eye through her tears. "We don't need any of that. We-we'll learn together. None of us know how to do anything on our own. We've got each other, Gran'papa, we'll all learn."

Eli feels his eyes prickle and his lungs feel like they crack right through, but he stands and circles the table to kneel and pull his two granddaughters into his arms. Regina clings to him and sobs freely. Porpentina is trembling, but it isn't long before he feels her little tears seep through the fabric of his shirt. He kisses the top of her head, feels her hiccup, and lets his own tears fall.

They don't know each other well, but now they're stuck. They've always been related, but now they're family in a way they have never been before, and together they grieve.

* * *

 _Guess who isn't dead?_

 _Excuses? Oh, I have plenty of excuses for why I haven't written in five years, but I won't waste your time with them here._

 _Finally dipping my toes into the world of writing again after years of silence. I am horribly, horribly rusty._

 _I will try to update this a couple of times per week. If anyone has any writing prompts or topics they would like to see explored, please let me know; I am happy to_ _indulge._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	2. Chapter 2

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

 _._

* * *

 _1910_

The funeral is a family affair. A union veteran of the American Civil War, Elijah has seen his share of joint burials, but burying three family members at once is beyond excruciating. Though the undertaker employed the best of spells to rid Abigail, Fyvel, and Rebecca of the scars of dragonpox, taking memento mori photographs of the family together is almost too much for the girls to bear. Eli won't let them evade the morbid practice, however—he has no other family photographs featuring all six of them and he will take whatever he can get. He wishes he had spent more money on the luxury of photographs while they were all still alive, regardless of their expense.

The girls go through almost all of their clothes, as their heritage demands that their clothes be torn every time they change during the shiva period, the week of mourning. It's inconvenient, but important. Clothes can be replaced. Parents cannot be. At some point, Eli makes the decision to never shave again.

They observe the matzevah a month later. They stand in stiff silence for a while. It is Tina who steps forward first, wrapping her little fingers around a fold of white cloth and pulls the shroud from the headstone.

Freckled by the shade of an oak tree, Fyvel Goldstien's birthdate and death date are inscribed in grey stone beside his wife Rebecca. Beside her is Abigail and beside Abigail is a space reserved for Elijah later down the road, his name and birth date carved into it prematurely.

He misses his wife unbearably. He didn't realize how much he relied on her until she was gone and now he feels entirely lost. His slacks and jacket are rumpled—one day he had gone to his closet to dress and realized that he didn't know how to iron his clothes. He looks as depressed and unkempt as he feels. His short, white beard is beginning to look like an actual beard instead of just sloppy, translucent scruff.

However, the girls are washed, clean, and fed (after a month, he's beginning to get the hang of oatmeal, but it is still bland) and their hair is flawlessly brushed and adorned with bows. Their shoes are polished and their hosiery is snowy white.

Though Regina is the sister who cries the easiest, in this moment it is she who stands more firmly as Porpentina shatters and falls to her knees. She buries her face in the shroud and wails, crying for her mama and papa, for Becky and Filly. The cloth singes and chars where she touches it, her feelings boiling over through her fingers. Regina takes her older sister's head into her lap and pets her hair as she cries. Eli kneels onto the grass and his arms encircle them both, a gesture of comfort and protection he isn't sure he can truly provide. However bitterly, he knows that the grief will ease with time; he is less confident in his ability to raise his grandchildren.

* * *

 _Grandpa Goldstien isn't the most competent parent and he knows it, but he has lots of time to learn how to be a stay-at-home mom._

 _Next chapter I will explain how we get the nickname"Queenie" out of "Regina."_

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	3. Chapter 3

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

 _._

* * *

 _1910_

Porpentina hates being called "little porcupine," thus her grandfather employs it whenever he is in a mood to tease her or get her to loosen up when she's wound up tighter than a wet dishrag in the laundry. She is stiff with her grief and, while he knows it embitters her to him somewhat, he thinks it is good for her to express herself, even if it is only annoyance and frustration with her grandfather. She puckers her lips and her cheeks puff up most humorously when she's mad. She says it makes her feel small, so at some point "little porcupine" becomes "tiny porcupine," and from "tiny Porpentina" comes, simply, Tina.

He doesn't learn until later that Filly and Becky had also called her Tina, and wonders at how the same nickname can rise twice.

Regina takes to the nickname "little queen" like an owl to the air, even though it is merely the translation of her name from Latin to English. Her full name is a bit too regal for her, as golden and dangerous as the Midas touch; she's a light-hearted, loving child, and while she enjoys dressing up and being treated like a princess, the title of Regina is just a bit too heavy to bear alongside so many other burdens of growing up.

Her parents, while they were alive, called her Geegee from time to time, but Tina never used it, so Eli never heard it, thus "Geegee" doesn't live to see the end of Regina's childhood.

It isn't long before "little queen" transforms to "Queenie" and sticks like glue. Eli wonders if she'll grow into her birth name when she's older, but he has a hard enough time imagining her as an adolescent, much less as an actual woman. She'll always be his little sweetheart.

* * *

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	4. Chapter 4

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

 _1910_

* * *

William Stout owns the dry goods store in the wizarding part of town. Eli knows he draws attention when he steps into the store with two nervous-looking little girls trailing behind him and an entire cookbook in hand instead of a grocery list, marked by several feathers for bookmarks. It didn't occur to Eli to bring a bag to put the groceries in and they end up crowding William's counter with everything they can't fit into their arms (which, in the girls' case, isn't much). He figures he can temporarily transfigure his handkerchief into a basket to get everything home.

He asks his granddaughters what things they think would make the oatmeal taste better besides butter and sugar. Regina makes a face, blatantly displeased with the thought of having to endure oatmeal as their staple meal any longer. Porpentina eyes a loaf of bread longingly.

William's thick, greying mustache twitches. He disappears from his shop for a moment and returns with his wife. Joan Stout is a homely woman with a severe bun and floral printed clothes. A mother of four grown boys, she glances between the Goldstiens and Eli gets the most alarming feeling that he is in trouble with her for some reason.

Joan gives Porpentina and Regina each a piece of saltwater taffy and sends the girls to pick apples. Then she pulls Eli into her kitchen to teach him a few simple cooking spells—cutting vegetables, a timing and temperature spell, a charm to make napkins fold themselves, a spell for keeping soapy water hot while doing dishes, and a spell to protect against accidentally snipping fingers off. She flips through Abigail's cookbook and moves his bookmarks around—pointing him toward recipes that are simpler and won't be ruined if they're overcooked. Mashed potatoes, soups, pies made of odds and ends, cheese sandwiches.

He comes back the next day with the better part of his beard singed off and reeking of vinegar. The girls won't stop telling everyone, _absolutely everyone_ , about singing cutlery, the apple that became wooden right through when they cut it, and being chased around the house by an angry stove that spewed sparkling, purple smoke. Joan takes one look at him and laughs herself into hysteria. Eli can't bring himself to do anything but stand and blush silently until Joan, dabbing the mirth from her eyes, proposes weekly cooking lessons and sends them home with a casserole and a sack of root vegetables to feed them until her lessons begin the following Tuesday.

It takes a month to get the stove to stop growling at him.

* * *

 _It's my day off and Ch3 was short, so have two today. Also, I've just been impatient to get to the good stuff._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	5. Chapter 5

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

 _1911_

* * *

Queenie is a legilmens and therefore knows Eli even better than he knows himself sometimes. She always knows what to say (probably because she can pluck it straight from his brain, the little scoundrel) so it is Queenie he grows closest to. Not that this makes him any more or less fond of Tina—it's just that Tina is more closed off. She's only ten and she's trying so hard to be grown up.

While Queenie wears their mother's childhood dresses when she grows out of her own, Tina digs out their father's things from the attic and hems them to fit. She spends several weeks with sore, bloodied fingertips before she gets the hang of handling a needle and thread; she doesn't know to use a thimble and since Eli doesn't know either, he can't correct her.

When she comes home one day with her hair chopped short, wearing her father's pants, and a job delivering newspapers, Eli finds it difficult to be angry with her for looking so tomboyish. Tina feels a duty to provide for her family in a way that Eli, in his age, cannot. She has her father's chin, his dark hair, and his determination, and while she grows into her mother's features later, as a child she looks so much like Fyvel that it breaks Eli's heart.

When she pairs her father's slacks with her mother's blouses, it lends her a certain femininity that foreshadows the woman she will grow into. Her womanhood is almost a shame, but the times have been changing, the suffragettes stepping up, and Eli knows that Tina will have opportunities that her mother and grandmother never lived to see. He has a feeling that Tina and Queenie will be legally allowed to vote by the time they finish Ilvermorny. Still, he worries for her whenever he reads about a woman being hauled off to jail for wearing pants in public. On the radio he hears about a woman in Chicago who was publicly beaten by police for wearing slacks and he hopes that the trend changes by the time Tina is old enough for her choice of clothing to have consequences.

* * *

 _The idea that Tina's clothes were put together from her parents' wardrobes was discussed in an interview with Katherine Waterston._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	6. Chapter 6

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

 _1911_

* * *

Queenie, while she knows how to get along with anyone and everyone, is also shy and easily overwhelmed. She doesn't speak up much in public, though at home she can be quite the canary. She's like Pandora's box, full of foreign secrets that she never asked to be beholden to keep.

Tina is the one who brings home dislodged baby birds and tears off down the street after a gang of rotten boys in defense of a scraggly tomcat they were harassing. (She brings the tabby home and, while he doesn't stay long, he lingers long enough that Queenie names him Spanky due to Tina's habit of smacking his rump whenever he scratched up the furniture.) While she often puts her nose in a book, she dubs her regular walks to the library "patrols" and frequently sticks that nose into business that children her age (much less girls) should stay out of. They both get into their shares of trouble, Queenie because she hears too much and Tina because her eyes are too sharp, but Tina also gets into trouble out of a strong sense of justice. Her late father is her idol, so she steps up to do what she thinks is right, even if that ends up with her being dragged home by the ear and sent to bed without supper. She's quiet, but righteous.

The number of stray cats brought home declines as she gets older, both because he tries to ban them for the sake of his owls and because her headstrong nature becomes more tempered with age. She adheres to the rules a bit more strictly with every year, a lawful woman, but still chases off the bullies of anyone being picked on, rules be damned.

"You have to master the rules before you can break them," he tells her one evening. She's in her nightclothes, sitting on the edge of the bathtub picking dirt and gravel out of her weeping shins. A no-maj police officer had dragged her home by the arm and let her go with a warning: she had gotten in a fistfight with a no-maj boy over a petty theft. She sports a proper purple shiner and at first it alarms him because he knows Tina well enough to know that she would never be the instigator of a fight, but the look on her face tells him that she came out of that battle triumphant. Part of him is furious (girls shouldn't fight) and part of him is proud, so he chooses to act on neither and leave her be.

He can't say whether or not she takes his words to heart.

* * *

 _I just really enjoy the idea of a young Tina beating the snot out of bullies when she's still too young to have a wand because if she can't hex them into next week, she will certainly kick them there. I like to think she was more of a vigilante when she was a child and still coping with her parents' death-thus more likely to lash out-simply because it is so much more fun that way._

 _Spanky was actually a cat that hung out in my neighborhood one summer when I was a child, and my brother and I called him Spanky because he would use my mother's ficus trees as scratching posts, so we would smack him on the butt as punishment (as if that would have actually been effective)._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	7. Chapter 7

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

1912

* * *

However common the flu is, it is not an illness to be taken lightly. Though it becomes increasingly less deadly every year, Elijah lost many a playmate to the flu while growing up, so it is particularly alarming when his youngest granddaughter comes down with Black Cat Influenza.

Queenie shivers, vomits, sneezes, meows, and sprouts whiskers. Her eyes go green and the moonlight is so bright it keeps her up at night. Even her curls seem limp. Tina refuses to leave her sister's bedside, armed with washcloths chilled in ice water, pepper up potion, and matzo ball soup—it's a bit of a challenge to get her to eat more than just the chicken parts of it. Blessedly, thankfully, Queenie's illness never gets severe enough for her to develop a purr or tabby stripes.

Tina is a diligent nursemaid, doubly so because she has already experienced loss. She looks up spells to aid Queenie and has Eli preform them—a charm to fluff up the pillows, to make the drapes stick shut, to make the washcloths rinse themselves out when their moisture loses its coolness. The mediwitch gives them a jar of throat lozenges to control the meows. Every morning, Queenie sits up and patiently endures her grandfather shaving off her whiskers from her upper lip. Eli has to assure her that, no, she isn't going to grow a moustache.

The tomcat from down the street has moved in under the front porch and tries every trick in the book to get into the house. Though Eli and Tina regularly chase him off, he keeps coming back, begging to be let in.

"This is what happens when you bring home strays, little porcupine."

Porpentina puffs up at him and sticks her tongue out indignantly.

* * *

 _The Black Cat Flu is mentioned in the Harry Potter series._

 _Updates are every Sunday and Thursday._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	8. Chapter 8

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

1913

* * *

Whenever she is stressed, Queenie goes up to the owlery. Owls are particularly simple minded and easier to be around when she needs a bit of quiet. Eli can't know exactly what it is like being a legilmens, but he imagines it must be something like being in a loud room all of the time.

This time he stumbles upon her there when he is hoisting himself up the ladder with the owls' evening breakfast. Queenie looks particularly upset, her forehead creased, usually smiling mouth downturned, her hand stroking the head of a long-eared owl named Hyssop. The orange-eyed animal has one eye closed contentedly. Eli cleans the owl house of pellets and droppings in the morning, but a few messes have been made during the course of the day. The owls are just beginning to shake themselves awake for the night. He dissolves their droppings with a tight flick of his wrist.

"Why are people so unkind, Gran'papa?"

Eli doesn't have an answer for her and he doesn't need to say that aloud for Queenie to know it. Instead, he stands behind her and scratches Hyssop's round, happy, empty head.

"I hear things I don't want all the time. I know who doesn't think well of me, or of Tina or of you or of my friends. Someone thought something really nasty today and I just…I hate it. I hate having to hear everybody all of the time. I hate that I know things about people that I shouldn't. I hate having to pretend that I don't know those things. I wish I knew why I was born with this, Gran'papa, because I hate being like this. I hate people! Everything would be better if everyone just went away!"

When Hyssop flutters away, startled, Eli swoops his little granddaughter into his arms and hugs her hard. Queenie clings to him like talons in a mouse and sobs into his shoulder, quivering and shivering.

He had never been one for much physical affection, until his granddaughters came along. He has hugged these little girls twice as much, each, than he ever hugged their father. It is one of his many regrets.

"I want to be the princess in the tower guarded by a beast, but I don't want anyone saving me—because it's my getaway!"

Eli's owlery is little more than a shed on a roof, held together by chicken wire and sticking spells. It isn't exactly a tall tower fit for a princess, nor is there a dragon or troll or fairy to guard it, but it is a serviceable enough playhouse for a small girl to imagine it is, and that is enough.

* * *

 _Queen mentioned in FB that she used to love feeding her grandfather's owls. Here is an observation on why that might have been._

 _Updates are every Sunday and Thursday._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	9. Chapter 9

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

 _1914_

* * *

As the oldest sister, it is Porpentina that hits puberty first. Eli is unprepared and, needless to say, Tina didn't know what to expect either. What Eli _does_ know is that he wakes up one morning to his granddaughter shaking him awake in a panic and blood on her nightdress. He doesn't know much about menstruation except that it happens when a girl "becomes" a woman and that there is blood involved. Abigail had gone through her menopause some 30 years before she passed away, and Eli has absolutely no idea how to get the bleeding to stop.

At the very least, Eli is able to tell Tina that, no, she isn't sick, what she is experiencing is scary, yes, but it happens to all women, no, he doesn't know what to do, but why don't they go wake up Mrs. Ruthford next door and see if she can help?

Queenie is making a fuss and cannot be convinced that Tina isn't going to bleed to death because "You don't know that she _won't_ , Gran'papa!"

"Oh, put a can in it!" Tina exclaims in frustration.

Queenie outright _screams_ at her, her hands clenched into fists at her side.

Elijah is not about to put up with a shrieking match between two girls, one a newly blossomed woman, at six in the damn morning. He snatches Queenie up like a baby doll and carries her to her room. Queenie howls and kicks her feet, so Eli trusses her at the ankles like one of his hen owls and drops her onto her bed for a time-out. He thinks it will be better for them to relieve her of their thoughts and emotions while they are seeking out Mrs. Ruthford. He charms the door shut and she pounds her little hands against it, screeching both _at_ him and _for_ him.

Tina is pale and anxious, so Eli scoops her up into his arms, careful of the blood on her skirt, and carries her next door to Barbara and Thompson Ruthford's house. It takes only a few minutes to rouse them. Tom answers the door, looking sleep-crusted and ruffled, but takes one look at them and seems to understand. He invites them in while he trots upstairs to fetch his wife. Barbie appears in her nightgown and robe, curlers in her hair.

Tina hides behind her grandfather, both shy and embarrassed by her barefoot and bloody state of dress. Barbie is on her in an instant, however, tutting and taking Tina by the hand and yanking her up the stairs to the bath and toilet.

Though technically salvageable, Tina's stained nightdress is shucked into the garbage. Barbie gets out one of her own and adjusts it to fit, and waves away any and all offers of compensation. The men sit and make awkward small chat in the den while Barbie sets Tina up with the bare necessities—she asks Tina to come back over in a few hours for a proper talk once everyone is more awake and _properly dressed_.

Once back home, they are alarmed to find Queenie's hysterics have gotten worse. Eli shares a look with his granddaughter in the entryway and they bolt up the stairs

"Teenie! Teenie, don't die! You can't die and leave me all alone!" Queenie is sobbing. " _Teenie_!"

Eli's wand flicks the door open, sending a red-face, tear-streaked Queenie tumbling out straight into the waiting arms of her older sister. The little girl is momentarily startled then burrows into her sister's arms, shaking as though the very pillars of her being are about to collapse. Perhaps they are, Eli thinks.

"Teenie, Teenie, _Teenie_ —"

"Shhh—it's okay. I'm okay, Queenie. I'm here."

Elijah is flooded with remorse; his bones ache with horror at what he has done and he nearly staggers at the weight of it. He hadn't meant to hurt his granddaughter so. He should have remembered how sensitive Queenie is and how the thought that he sister might have been mortally sick—as her parents had been—would have affected her. He wasn't thoughtful enough and now he has hurt the person dearest to his heart.

Tina looks up at him, one palm pressing Queenie's cheek into her shoulder, and beckons him to her, rolling her hand at him. The morning light is pale on her cheeks.

"You didn't mean it, Gramps."

He feels his heart break and shakily settles himself into a sitting position to pull his girls into his arms. Queenie won't let Tina go, but she doesn't shy away from Eli's hesitant, apologetic touch. She cries herself to exhaustion and falls asleep in the cradle of her sister and grandfather's arms.

* * *

 _Grandpa Goldstien still has a lot to learn about little girls. Especially orphaned ones who have suffered traumatic loss. He's getting better, but there are some voids that an old man simply cannot fill._

 _Updates are every Sunday and Thursday._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	10. Chapter 10

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

1912

* * *

Porpentina and Regina are two and a half years apart in age, which means, inevitably, they will spend some of their time separated once Tina is old enough to go to Ilvermorny. Queenie takes it well until her sister actually is gone and her bed is empty.

Elijah knows something is up the next morning at breakfast. His favorite granddaughter looks like she hasn't gotten a wink of sleep, her flaxen hair limp like the tail of a beaten dog, and she plays demurely with her food without eating anything. It is hardly a challenge to guess at what has his little queen so glum. He misses Tina too.

"I couldn't hear her dreams. It's too quiet. So, I couldn't sleep."

Eli runs his hand though her hair comfortingly and gives her chin a little tap. _Buck up, little queen._

The sisters have not been apart for longer than an afternoon since Fyvel and Rebecca passed away. Eli knew it would be difficult, but it's been harder than expected. After the first week, he checks on her one night to find that she's stolen away to sleep in Tina's bed instead. Eli understands—he has a pillow made out of one of Abigail's nightgowns. Every few months he dabs it with a bit of her old bergamot and lemon perfume, to renew her scent.

Though he'd rather the stray cats go away, as they would without Tina to feed them, he's not about to stop Queenie when she takes it upon herself to spend her weekly allowance on tins of canned fish instead of candy. It's her allowance to do what she pleases with, even if he opposes it. When one of the calico females grows fat with kittens, Queenie convinces him to let her put out an old pillow under the porch so that the feline can have her litter in a safe place. Elijah struggles hard to say no and caves in after three days of pleading and puppy-eyes.

They start out with five kittens, but accident and elements whittle them down to just two. Queenie becomes very protective of them, two black and white spotted kneazels with autumnal eyes she dubs Hamper and Basket. She foregoes milk in the mornings in order to give the kittens her share. Eli disapproves, but she's rebellious.

Eli refrains from telling her that he found one kitten skull in an owl pellet in the owlery. It is not without its heartbreak, but he cannot shame his owls for their nature.

Halloween comes and goes, the holiday punctuated by bobbing for apples, jumping over candlesticks, having their fortunes told by a man who pours drops of molten lead into water and divining the shapes, local ghosts who came by and tell their death stories in order to frighten anyone of a delicate disposition. Queenie leads the song in the lighting of the bonfire, but the dances aren't the same without Tina there.

Queenie's joy when Tina comes home for Thanksgiving break is beyond words. Eli and his youngest granddaughter apparate to Union Station in Albany in order to greet her as she gets off the train. Tina's hair is a little longer, but as wild as ever. She's lovely in blue and cranberry and her short _leefa_ curls bounce as she bobs up and down on tiptoe, trying to catch a glimpse of her remaining family members through the crowd. Beside him, Queenie is making the same motions, hopping and popping her head over shoulders and under knees until Eli leans down and points Tina out.

The little blond witch sprints across the platform, shoving and bumping into pedestrians along the way, and launches herself into her sister's arms. Tina is ready for her—her sharp eye and quick reflexes haven't damped one bit. They join hands and spin and spin and _spin_ until centrifugal force pulls them apart and they tumble to the ground, grinning and laughing and hugging. They collect some bewildered stares, two young girls rolling around with flushed cheeks and scattered luggage, but passersby just pass on by.

"Teenie, I missed you _so_ _much_ —!"

"I have _so much_ to tell you, Queenie—!"

Eli waits until they wander they way back to him, beaming as only children can. Tina sets her suitcase down and throws her arms around the old man's neck.

"I missed you, Gramps."

Eli hugs her back twice as hard. She's grown taller, if only a little. His heart feels full. "I missed you too, my little porcupine."

He really shouldn't be so surprised when her response is to blow a raspberry in his ear.

* * *

 _Author Notes:_

 _Friendly reminder that Tina doesn't like being called a porcupine._

 _Thank you, Highly-Illogical over at Ao3, for the subject suggestion._

 _In regards to Halloween traditions, trick or treating didn't become popular until the 40s and 50s, but all of the traditions/games described were widely practiced at Halloween parties during the early 1900s._

 _However, I'm not a fan of Ilvermorny, so don't expect to hear much about it from me. I'm a big fan of the Alexandra Quick series by Inverarity and strongly prefer his take on the American Magic School system than JKR's, whose interpretation is so blatantly pilgrim-y._

 _A note on Abigail's perfume: bergamot and lemon was a popular scent for cologne in the mid-1800s and, unlike most perfumes before it, was reasonably priced and thus accessible to the working class._

 _The kittens are based on two kittens I rescued from under a girl's porch back in 2015._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	11. Chapter 11

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

191X

* * *

Deciphering the secret to Abigail's grandmother's cocoa recipe is a trial-and-error experiment several years in the making. The slip of paper is written in old English and Eli is an owl man, not a linguistics man. What's more, the recipe calls for Spanish chocolate and Elijah isn't sure how Abigail substituted _that_. One of the cupboards in the kitchen was his late wife's spice cabinet and its contents remain scarcely touched. There's a jar of "chocolate drink spice," but its components have all been ground to a fine powder and Eli cannot sniff out the individual ingredients to save his life.

One Winter break when the girls are home for Chanukkah, the three of them spend the two weeks experimenting. They start off with the most simple of cocoas—milk, cocoa, and sugar. It's sweet, but plain and a far cry from their goal. Tina insists on adding vanilla, extracted in brandy, and cinnamon and they get a little closer. Nutmeg also gets thrown in.

Queenie spends an afternoon with the spice jar and claims that she smells cloves and black licorice. There is no black licorice in the cupboard, but there is fennel and star anise and they both fit the smell profile. Deciphering between the two will be a simple matter of trial and error. There is something spicy in the jar too, she says, something peppery.

They realize very quickly that black pepper is decidedly _not_ the correct spice.

Since chocolate comes from Central and South America, Tina suggests red chilies rather than South Asian peppercorns. The result is immensely better—once they get the hang of measuring the spice out. Their first batch is so spicy that they all feel like they're breathing fire—chilies are easily 20 times spicier than peppercorns. (On the bright side, the need to cool down a burning mouth gives them an excuse to spend the entire day licking ice cream cones at the soda fountain at the racetracks, and none of them have any complaints about that.)

The trickiest part of the recipe is figuring out what colorau seeds are. It's Tina who discovers it once she and Queenie are back in school and she has an entire library at her disposal—however, it is her potions teacher, local ingredients expert, that knows the other names that colorau goes by: achiote, bija, roucou, koesoewe, kusuwe, onoto, atsuete, and, annatto.

Annatto has been in the cupboard all along.

And yet still something is missing. The cocoa is lacking something that gives its richness that last oomph. They try adding extra cream, but while it is divine, it isn't quite the flavor profile Eli is seeking.

It turns out to be butter, brown butter to be exact, which Eli discovers when Joan Stout suggests simmering the spices in a pan to release their aromas in full. The milkfat toasts to a golden brown and then is poured into a lidded glass jar, still warm, over the chocolate drink spices, and leave it to saturate in the sun in the windowsill. The spice-infused butter only gets stronger with time, and when they are satisfied with its potency they add it to milk, cocoa, and honey.

Sitting in the den with a cup of cocoa in his hand, Eli feels at peace.

* * *

 _Author Notes:_

 _Please refer to "A Taste Of History With Joyce White: 17th Century Spanish Hot Chocolate" for the basis of the Goldstien family cocoa recipe._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	12. Chapter 12

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

1913

* * *

When it comes to orphaned little girls, the good dreams are sometimes worse than the bad ones. Tina falls asleep on the couch one evening, drooling into the open pages of her book, her dark hair curling errantly, and when Eli carries her up to bed and tucks her in, she calls him "Papa" in her sleep with a content little sigh. Sometime after midnight, he is roused by the sound of weeping and trails his way down the hall to find Tina crying in her dreams. There are tears streaming from the corners of her closed eyes and her mouth is twisted in torment. Her pillow is soaked. She's gripping her bed quilt like it is the ledge of a cliff. She is momentarily soothed when he sweeps his hand across her forehead, but becomes distressed again when he moves away.

Eli slips into Queenie's room and sweeps her out of bed. She wakes up a bit and blinks up at him.

"Whus goin' on, Gran'papa?"

"We're going to have a slumber party with Porpentina tonight, little queen."

A flick of his wand enlarges the bed and he tucks Queenie into it. The blond becomes more awake once she's close enough to get a better view of her sister's dreams and she quickly wraps her arms around the older girl, tucking her head under Tina's chin. Eli settles in on Porpentina's other side and runs his fingers comfortingly through her hair. She hiccups and leans into his touch, murmuring for Rebecca.

Elijah shivers with grief. He misses them too. By all rights, Fyvel and Rebecca should have outlived him. It should have been the son burying the father, not the other way around, and he feels angry at the world for taking his child away too soon.

When he finally wakes, it is late into the morning. Tina is sitting up with Queenie's head in her lap, looking forlorn. Queenie too, is awake, and it takes only a few seconds for Eli to upright himself. Questions aren't necessary. The air in the room is heavy and damp; even the sunshine doesn't dispel the fog of sadness permeating the atmosphere.

"I dreamed that they were still here." Tina's voice is unsteady. Her chin trembles and in a moment she has her face buried in her palms, desperately trying to stifle her own sobs. Queenie's sweet mouth grimaces and she too dissolves into tears.

Eli has no words to comfort his girls with; all he can do is hold and rock them while they weep.

* * *

 _Author Notes:_

 _Loss never really gets easier. You just learn to live with the weight._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	13. Chapter 13

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

1915

* * *

Somebody has lost their chickcharnee. Elijah is none too pleased about it. Especially since whoever owns it has taught it to _talk_.

It is Tina who brings it home, of course. It had been tangled up in an alley fight with a cat and she thought it must have been injured, since it couldn't fly. She didn't know that burrowing owls don't fly. She swaddles the shivering, screeching animal in her coat and carries it home, earning its fragile trust. It's obviously a pet.

The cryptid, tropical owl is not a pretty species to begin with and, moreover, this one is probably the ugliest chickcharnee Eli has ever had the displeasure to work with. It's especially tall, closer to three and a half feet rather than the average two and a half to three, and its tortoiseshell coloring belongs on a cat. Its eyes are a bit too far apart; its beak ragged with age. It trips over its own two gangly feet. It is constantly trying to flirt with Hyssop and isn't deterred by the fact that it is a burrowing owl and thus can't follow her when the long-eared owl takes her leave of him. It escapes the owlery and moves into the house when the owls start vomiting their pellets on him in their displeasure and begins harassing the girls. Eli has yet to find a spell that keeps it in the attic for more than 30 minutes—it's a weasel of a bird.

It is also hopelessly fond of Tina and absurdly bitter toward Queenie.

"Nosy!" It screeches at her, obviously referring to her legilmency. Though she hides it well, Eli can tell that his youngest granddaughter is hurt by the name-calling.

Despite its constant groveling, Tina doesn't like the cryptid; its affection borders on harassment. Despite being a magical animal, it's as stupid as any owl and its lack of intelligence paired with its ability to speak about two dozen words makes it especially insufferable. It's like a particularly idiotic parrot. Eli wonders if it got lost delivering a letter, since it had an empty red ribbon tied around its leg when it showed up. It's not unheard of for chickcharnees to be used for mail, but they're flightless and unreliable and expensive to import. Passenger pigeons are infinitely better, even better than the smartest owls, but they're nearly extinct.

The chickcharnee's abilities as a magical creature of luck is mostly simple favoritism. It has a keen eye for things that sparkle, so it brings home lost jewelry and pennies and scraps of glimmering tin for Tina… and beetles and half-eaten mice for Queenie. It takes Queenie a couple of days to adjust to mouse entrails, but her irritation wins over her squeamishness. She feeds the bodies of the mice to the stray cats until the cryptid becomes annoyed with her using his insults to her advantage and throws a temper tantrum.

"No! No, no, no! No!" It wails, beating its wings against the girl's legs until she threatens to kick it. It scuttles away and hides under the sofa, its beady red eyes glaring out of the shadows.

Five days in, Tina has had her fill and explodes at the creature in a fit of frustration, backing it into a corner and scolding it into tears.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." It moans.

"Don't apologise to me, you wicked thing, apologise to Queenie and to Gramps. You've treated them horribly. You're a nasty creature!"

"Sorry, sorry."

"Go on, then!"

The chickcharnee morosely makes its way through the house, its fluffy, ugly head bowed, wings dragging, as Tina parades it first to her sister's room and then downstairs to the den.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," it grovels to Queenie in a tremulous voice.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," it sobs to Elijah.

It is a quiet and complacent cryptid for the next two days. Eli receives a letter from a woman claiming to be the animal's owner and announcing when she would be by to retrieve him. She knocks on a Wednesday afternoon: a middle-aged, dark-skinned woman with a sprinkling of pepper-black freckles in a sunny yellow dress and matching hat, carrying a large wicker birdcage on her hip.

"Who-whoooooo-leeuhhhh!" The chickcharnee shrieks and tears down the stairs (quite gracelessly) to the feet of the dark woman in the doorway.

"Winnie! There you is! We been lookin' all over the county for ya."

The chickcharnee rubs its head against the woman's dress, crooning in delight.

"Aww, did they gone an' bully you, Winnie?"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

"Did ya'll deserve it?"

"…yes."

"Mmhmmmmm. I reckoned as much. Rascal. Didja say you was sorry?"

"Yes, yes!"

Winnie the chickcharnee, while troublesome, is an old cryptid belonging to the Cook family. He is rude and crude and simple-minded, but he can be funny, Julianna explains, and however annoying he may be, the family isn't about to let his quality of life decay during his final years. A Haitian relative brought him as a gag-gift for her great-aunt some decades ago and he wouldn't be able to survive in the wild if he tried, spoiled and pampered as he is—he'd probably walk right into the mouth of a cougar and be halfway eaten before he figured out that maybe he ought run away instead.

The girls may not be fond of the cryptid owl, but it's difficult to hold a grudge against a simple animal—as long as they don't ever have to look after him again.

Elijah and Julianna, with a shared appreciation for owls, get together to play bridge once a month from then on.

* * *

 _Author Notes:_

 _Chickcharneys are a cryptid owl belonging to the Caribbean that bestow good luck to those that they like and bad luck to those that they don't. They're not rumored to speak, but Winnie does because he's more charming that way. Julianna Cook will continue to have a presence in this story-there is a period after the Civil War called The Great Migration due to the large numbers of freed black folks who moved north._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _~MegiiJ_


	14. Chapter 14

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

1915-17

* * *

When the girls are old enough to both go to school, they never have to be concerned with buying quills, because Eli makes his own from a few of his owls bred specifically for their firm feathers. Breeding and raising his owls is getting more difficult, so he returns to his old hobby of quill crafting, painting intricate, moving designs on the feathers and sells them for a nickel each.

The house feels empty without the girls, however, and though they are home for every holiday weekend, even his owls cannot keep off the edge of his loneliness. He is capable of cooking for himself now, though he usually only manages a pauper's meal. He and his granddaughters had all learned together, just as Queenie said they would, but cooking for one is not the same as getting out Abigail's mother's cookbook, him chopping the vegetables while Queenie worked the skillet and Tina handled the dishes. The adjustment is hard on him. It ages him more quickly.

Queenie isn't boy crazy, but the boys sure are crazy about her. Boys drive Queenie crazy with their craziness. Eli is glad that Tina is there to fight them off in his place. Owls bearing love letters follow her home on holidays, annoying all three of them, until Eli gives her an owl-repelling spell to look up and practice while she is at school. A few weeks after the girls' return to Ilvermorny, he receives a letter from his little queen gushing over how well his spell had worked and Eli feels a small weight lift from his chest. The thing Queenie has always needed the most was a bit of peace of mind.

Tina hardly notices boys until Eli begins selling off his owls the summer of her 16th birthday, at which point she develops eyes for the young man Eli sells his business off to, Abraham Pole's Owls, formerly Passenger Pigeons (the poor birds went extinct in '14). In his late twenties, Abe is too old to notice Tina, but she has her period of puppy love. Abe lets her down firmly, but gently, and she spends a few weeks nursing her first broken heart. Eli rubs her back and tells her what a shame it is that Abe couldn't see what a lovely girl she is, but he is secretly relieved. Tina is too headstrong for a man as orthodox as Abe Pole and Eli hopes that one day she will pair up with someone who finds that aspect of her an enjoyment and not an obstacle. Tina is not destined for the life of a housewife like her foremothers.

(It never crosses his mind that Tina may typically prefer the company of other women, her strong nature leading her to be drawn to people with caring, maternal instincts, and behind closed doors the girls agree that what Gran'papa doesn't know won't hurt him)

Queenie is picky about the boys, even if all the boys love Queenie. He hears about one or two of her crushes, and how from time to time she kisses the boys in exchange for chocolates and makes them cry, but she never meets anyone she likes enough to bring home. Her talents as a legilmens means her standards are high—which pleases her grandfather—and she is bored by a pretty face. This pleases him a bit less, as Eli believes his granddaughter should have a beau who is as handsome as she is beautiful.

(It never crosses his mind that Queenie finds most men to be romantically unbearable and women only slightly less so. Years of being viewed as a conquest means that Queenie deals in romance like the dealer in a game of cards and is just as expert in playing them.)

* * *

 _Author Notes:_

 _I write bisexual-women-favoring Tina, and_ _demi-sexual pan-romantic Queenie. Expect that to remain in play._

 _I am keen on the idea that Passenger pigeons may have been used as mail carriers amongst the wizarding community. They were certainly used in real life. They were much more intelligent that owls, but unfortunately the last Passenger pigeon, Martha, died in 1914. The species was hunted to extinction._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _Critique encouraged._

 _~MegiiJ_


	15. Chapter 15

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

1917

* * *

Elijah doesn't like the new no-maj president—to put it gently. He isn't especially fond of the current MACUSA president either, for that matter. Before Woodrow Wilson's election nobody wanted to get involved in the war. In a matter of months, that has been turned on its head. There is talk of a draft and to that, at least, many people are still opposed—especially by Elijah Ariel Goldstien.

There hasn't been a draft since the Civil War, which Eli himself was drafted into. It was a disaster then and he doesn't want to see it repeated now.

For the first time, Eli is glad that his son isn't here, so that he doesn't have to go through this. He is also glad that he has granddaughters instead of grandsons, because it means that they will never see the front lines.

The pro-war propaganda gives Eli a hard time. It gives him flashbacks and, as they are complicated by empty-nest syndrome, these can be difficult to recover from. With the girls at school, there is no one to shake him back to reality when he finds himself reliving the most terrifying years of his life.

Julianna begins coming to visit twice a month for bridge—she has a son three years older than Tina and she worries over his desire to enlist in the Armed Magical Forces of America. Hickory is a magi-electrician in Harlem, a specialist in charms and spells that help magic and no-maj technology interact without disturbing one another (such as radios, light bulbs, and gramophones). He is a gentle boy who fixes and builds things, she laments, not a fighter. While she understands the sentiment of joining the AMFA, no one in the Cook family wants to lose a loved one so soon after the Great Migration.

Segregation is less of an issue in MACUSA than the no-maj USA, but it is still predominantly white and fighting in the AMFA involves a lot more interaction with no-majs than most wizards have—so Julianna is worried twice as much as anybody.

Eli worries similarly about Tina. The war propaganda buys into her strong sense of justice, but at the same time anti-German sentiment is on the rise, leaving her torn. Their Jewishness is considered an unpleasant side-note—the fact that Eli's parents immigrated some decades before the Civil War doesn't stop anyone from being suspicious of the Goldstien name. It's ridiculous. They didn't even speak German while he was growing up; it was important that their children were All-American.

Queenie's legilmency comes in handy at school for avoiding classmates that might harass her or Tina.

He takes up a new hobby—whenever he crosses paths with a gaggle of anti-German kids, he shouts at them in Yiddish. He gets a no-maj official knocking on his front door after a few weeks and Eli tells him that if people can't tell Hebrew from Greek, well, it's not his damn problem. The official doesn't come back and Eli spooks the anti-Germans as he pleases until he gets bored of it.

Honestly, the only German word that Eli even knows is gesundheit.

* * *

 _Author Notes:_

 _We're finally getting into the WWI stuff. Suggestions encouraged-I'm almost caught up with myself._

 _Updates are going to be weekly for the remainder of May, then bi-monthly until September due to my new job working for the Forest Service this summer._

 _You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too._

 _Critique encouraged._

 _~MegiiJ_


	16. Chapter 16

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

1918

* * *

The Great War doesn't impact the United States in the way it affects Europe or Asia or any of the nations that became actual, active battlegrounds, but they are not exempt from some hardships. Elijah, on his part, is just glad that his granddaughters are smart enough to not fib their way into the front lines like some others do. Bittersweet though it is, Eli is also grateful that he is too old to be recruited into another war—he has taken enough lives in his lifetime.

Tina becomes passionate about taking food pledges until Eli points out that going without is standard for many families to begin with.

Soldiers knock on the front door, asking for donations and old rifles to be melted down and remade into new guns and bullets. He donates, but Eli carried no weapon besides his lemon and unicorn hair wand during the Civil War, and he is quietly glad that he does not have to live with the thought than an old weapon of his might kill someone anew.

A young veteran and his wife move in next door. The soldier is missing one of his legs and part of his hand. He is paranoid and douses his house in excessive numbers of wards and charms and jinxes. Saratoga Springs is known for its horse track, and lesser known are their thestral herds (they are partial to Eli's homemade chopped liver) and the man goes into a fit whenever they graze on mice and voles in the field across the road. The neighbors' garden is unkempt, but the trees bloom regardless of trimmings. His wife is soon pregnant, but Eli hears the man's night terrors several times a week and the second time he sees the wife leave the house with a veil hiding her face, the old wizard invites her over to play bridge and treats her to chocolate cake.

He learns about the man's flashbacks, his frustrations with his handicap, his sudden, explosive moments of rage, and knows that the young veteran is beating his wife. Elijah refers her to a potions master in Albany that brews a strong calming drought especially for soldiers—it kept him out of trouble in the months following the surrender of the Confederacy, dulled the worst of the memories, and he hopes that it will keep the young woman and her unborn child safe from her husband.

* * *

 _Author Notes:_

 _Apologies for the delay/reduction in updates recently. I am preoccupied getting ready for my job with the Forest Service this summer. I am getting First Aid, CPR, and Crosscut/Chainsaw Certifications and I've had to hunt for some new backcountry gear (I am a backpacker and thru-hiker)._

 _Also, the "Smile or Die" mindset of the modern fanfic communities is SUPER F-ING annoying and I'm taking a breather from it. I'm a fan gran; I want your flames._

 _Updates will be bi-monthly from June until the end of September._

 _Story prompts welcome._

 _Critique strongly encouraged._

 _~MegiiJ_


	17. Chapter 17

Gran'papa Owl

 _Character studies. The widowed Mr Goldstien knows all about raising owls; children, not so much. However, his wife, his son, and his daughter in law are all gone, leaving him to raise his two little granddaughters all on his own._

* * *

1918

* * *

It is because of her grandfather that Tina becomes interested in being an auror. It happens during her final year at Ilvermorny. It is the middle of January when Elijah's home is suddenly broken into. The girls are at school and he is alone. The very fact that someone breaks into his house at all betrays their witchcraft, but they are simple burglars. However, Elijah is pushing 90 years old. As a wizard, it would not be unusual if he has another twenty years left in him, but he is old. His joints have gone brittle, his sight is dependent on the glasses that sleep on his bedside table, and he is deaf in his left ear. He considers it lucky that he gets up to use the toilet just as the robbers are ransacking the den.

In trying to jinx the burglars, his slow stunning spell is easily rebounded back at him and he falls down the stairs. Blessedly, they leave him his wand and he is able to summon help, though they make off with a heartbreaking number of valuables and heirlooms.

Eli is hospitalized with severe bruising, several broken bones, including his hip, and a concussion. Having lain helplessly by the open front door until help arrived, the chill of the winter season gave him mild hypothermia. It isn't long before it is all complicated by a nasty, persistent cold. Tina and Queenie are at his bedside within a day and a half and, once the fear has passed, Tina is _furious_. The girls have been under his wing for eight years and, in all that time, he somehow has never seen this side of his oldest granddaughter's temper. It is hot. It is terrifying. It is unquenchable.

It is 100% Abigail.

She demands to get involved in the investigation of the burglary and assault, but she is underage and amateur (and female) and is thusly denied. Tina is not deterred.

There are dozens of potions and tinctures and salves to help Elijah heal, but he is old. The process of mending his bones takes more delicacy than it would on a younger man; his bruises take longer to fade. His hip will never hold his weight again, and he must adopt a stiff, almond, dragon-headed cane in order to get around (it likes to hiss and snarl at anyone it doesn't like; this includes his neighbor's husband). The robbery case goes unresolved for six months, until Tina graduates.

In a show of brilliance that would have embarrassed Arthur Conan Doyle, she solves it and brings her grandfather's assailants to justice within a month.

However, the judge refuses to hear the case in court until Tina changes from slacks to a skirt. Bitterly, she concedes. The auror office denies her internship.

* * *

 _Author Notes:_

 _Life gets crazy sometimes. The last three weeks of my life have been a chaotic, terrifying whirlwind and I am very much in limbo._

 _I will continue with bi-monthly updates, hopefully with extras in-between, until I get a better grip on things._

 _Story prompts welcome._

 _Critique strongly encouraged._

 _~MegiiJ_


End file.
